


Truck Stop

by wildwordwomyn



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drugs, Friendship/Love, M/M, Mild Language, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Fiction, Prostitution, Trucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-04
Updated: 2010-11-04
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwordwomyn/pseuds/wildwordwomyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They got 'em all over the country really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truck Stop

**Author's Note:**

> I added the Underage warning to this fic because there is mention at the beginning of an underage female prostitute. Other than her everyone else is a consenting adult.

They got 'em all over the country really. Gas stations. Weigh stations. Tourist rest areas where truckers like me'll stop for the night to get a little shut eye. I was at a rest area myself in Memphis that night it happened. See, the thing 'bout some o' those places is, girls'll hang around. We call 'em Susies, don't ask me why. But in Memphis I'd stopped at a rest area I ain't never been before. Had to. Eyelids kept fallin' on me. And the coffee I'd bought at the last gas station was some weak shit. Had to pull over somewhere. Place looked safe enough, clean enough, quiet enough. Got out to piss first. When I came back to my rig some Susie was starin' at it.

“You need somethin', girl?” She looked like a girl, too. Heavy makep, skimpy clothes, big, saggy tits, but a girl all the same. Her eyes told the story.

“Nice trailer,” she answered. “Pretty colors.” I can't lie. The truck I drove back then for Carlyle did look good. Like it shoulda been a race car or in one o' them car shows. I stayed silent. “...How long you been drivin' it?” She ran her hand over a red stripe.

“Long.” Never been much of a talker. Never have much to say. And I knew she'd get to the point soon. I saw him pass out the corner o' my eye, but didn't think nothin' of him. Then.

“...So...Don'tcha get lonely ridin' by yerself all the time?” And there it was, what Susies were for. I was lonely, though, and tempted. But then she looked away. I could tell she was sizin' up other potential customers.

“You hungry?” I asked instead. When she looked back at me she wasn't happy. The girl needed money, not food. She shook her head.

“Well. I best get goin' home...I really do like yer truck.” She walked away in them high heels like her feet hurt...

“Didn't want her, huh? Yeah,” he said, steppin' outta the shadows, scarin' me. I didn't flinch, but I had to fight to look normal. No one likes bein' snuck up on, especially truckers. “She was here when I came through last month. Looked as rough then too. But like a kid playin' dress-up.” He talked like a trucker but it was still obvious he'd finished high school. Unlike me.

“Yeah...Got a cigarette?” Couldn't think o' nothin' else to say.

When I could finally see his face clearly under the lights he looked like any other trucker. A lil rough around the edges, some lines here and there, firm jaw, crooked nose obviously been broken at least once, dark eyes. He had the face o' someone used to hard work, who was okay with it. Wiry-lookin' body through a flannel shirt and jeans. Tan on his face and arms where his sleeves rolled up. He looked like a guy who coulda been me. When he handed me the butt his hands shook a lil, brushin' mine. I expected his hands to go away after I took the butt, but they didn't. Stayed right there, close to and barely touchin' mine. Suddenly his eyes found mine and just...I 'on't know. I couldn't breathe for a second. His eyes got a hold o' me and wouldn't let go or somethin'.

“Need a light?” he asked. Didn't trust my own voice right then so I nodded.

He handed me his lighter, then cupped his hands 'round the flame 'cause o' the breeze. I leaned into his hands and got the butt lit. Couldn't help noticin' his hands smelled like leather and soap, and his long fingers still shook some. My hand, I didn't mean it but my hand bumped his when I pulled back. I looked back up and there they were. His eyes.

I cleared my throat, said, “Thanks, man,” noticed my voice was lower than usual, almost like a whisper. I cleared my throat again and took a long drag.

“Anytime,” he said cheerfully. He looked away, and I was fine again. “Got a steady gig. Drop off in Georgia so I come through the middle of each month. Usually ain't that bad...Got robbed a few months ago though. Not at this stop, I mean. Shoulda known. Not enough lights and a few too many roughnecks hangin' 'round.”

“That where your nose got broke?” He faced me again, surprised. By what, I didn't know.

“That...Oh, no. My dad did that when I was 15. He was a mean drunk...Bastard wouldn't take me to the doctor...” He fingered the bump for a second, eyein' me. “Never did heal right.” He was still shakin' when his hand fell.

“Need a fix huh?” I'd seen it before. Guys who used coke 'steada coffee, or speed, to stay awake on their run.

“What?” He looked at his hands as if he'd never seen 'em before. “...Naw...Since the robbery I can't seem to get it to stop. Like a tic now, I guess.” He smiled and eyed me.

That last time was when I realized they was beautiful. His eyes, I mean. Soft. Like there was no bottom to 'em. And so dark they looked black. Like an inkwell. I realized I was starin'. But I couldn't not. He still looked like any other trucker, but he didn't have trucker eyes. Them eyes...I ain't been able to put a name to 'em yet, to figure out what they is.

“Well, I better get some sleep if I'm to pull out at first light...” The smile disappeared. A look stole over his face then. I didn't know at the time what that look was tellin' me. Now...

“Yeah, me too.”

“Yeah...Well, night, friend. See ya in the A.M.” With that said he walked away to his own truck. His bow-legged gait was tough, a swagger. His steel-toed boots shuffled a lil. I watched him til he was outta view, wonderin' why I was watchin', shakin' my head. Strange night. Maybe...I checked the moon over the trees behind the main building. Yep. Full. That explained it, I thought.

The next morn I woke up a lil before dawn, amblin' to the Men's Room with some soap, my shavin' kit and deoderant. At a sink I rinsed off, soaped up my pits and crotch, then rinsed again. I pulled my jeans back up but tied my shirt 'round my waist. I air-dried my pits and prepared to shave. He walked in right as I put the razor to my jaw. Cut myself first try. I took a breath, cursed, rinsed the blood away and tried again. This time I concentrated on steadyin' my hand and only lookin' at my face in the mirror.

Still a trucker. His eyes, though, they was twice as dark and soft. And now I couldn't tell myself it was the moon. Sun was out now, shinin' into the place, lightin' his face up. He went to piss, then came beside me to wash his hands. Why'd he catch my eyes so easy? I wouldn't turn. I wouldn't. But I did look in the mirror. I swear, for a second, I was Alice starin' into the lookin' glass, into another world.

“Mornin', friend,” he said, smilin'. “How goes it?” He watched me like it didn't matter. Like it didn't mean nothin'.

“It goes,” I replied, my voice doin' that low thing again. I tore my eyes away to continue shavin'. It was weird, though, bein' half-naked 'round him, feelin' like he was lookin' at my body. Gave my stomach a funny feelin'.

After I was through shavin' I wiped my face. Cleared my throat. Put my shirt back on. He didn't say nothin' the whole time he was lookin'. When I buttoned up my shirt my own fingers shook, almost forgettin' how to work...I couldn't stop myself. I found his eyes and saw that same face as the night before. The one I couldn't name. I gave up two buttons away from the top. I had a feelin' 'bout the stranger, but I didn't know what the feelin' was, and I didn't know why it, he, scared me.

“...Uh...You know if they got coffee in the main building?” I looked down, gathered my stuff.

“Yeah, that Columbian stuff. Believe you me, it'll put some hair on yer chest,” he said, indicatin' with his chin the area that was now mostly covered.

“Right...Well, I best get some for the road.”

He walked me out the bathroom to the main building. We both loaded up thermoses and bought candy bars from the vending machine. We didn't speak even after headin' to our rigs. At mine he stopped.

“It is a good-lookin' rig.” He ran his hand down the same red stripe. I knew then he'd listened to me and that Susie's conversation. I flinched. 'Cause o' his words or his hand on my truck was anyone's guess...

“Welp, friend, I'm off. Be safe.” He winked, saluted, swaggered off.

I didn't see him again for a while, but I thought 'bout him. Wondered what his name was, where he was from, 'bout his kin...Wondered mostly why I couldn't get his eyes outta my head. I mean, I'd go to sleep and there they'd be, all up in my dreams. That wink, that crease 'round his eyes when he smiled, the way he'd looked at me. I couldn't stop seein' 'em, the bastards.

Four months later I was makin' 'nother Memphis run. Stopped at the same rest area on purpose. Even got out and looked for his rig. Wouldn'tcha know it, when I didn't see him anywhere my stomach actually sank. I knew disappointment when I felt it. Then, the next morn there he was in the Men's Room, shavin', whistlin'. I smiled so big my face 'bout broke open.

“Hey, friend. Long time, no see,” he said when he caught my stare. He got that look, that unnameable one, but his eyes were still beautiful, still had that kick.

“Hey...friend.” Bastard made me blush a lil.

And it started then. We'd try to meet at least once every 3 months at that Memphis rest area. To talk 'bout our trucks, our bosses, to gossip 'bout other truckers, to trade news 'bout certain routes with Montana-sized potholes or police traps or dangerous icy winter roads. We called each other friend and acted like that was all we was becomin'. But whenever I'd see him I'd get that big smile and my stomach would flip-flop. And when he got that unnameable face on my voice would do that thing, and I'd have to clear my throat and look away from his eyes just to 'member what I was 'bout to say.

That was my life for four years. When I was home I'd go to bars and pick up women. When I was on the road I'd enjoy the quiet o' bein' alone. But when I was in Memphis...Memphis was all that existed. 'Cause Memphis meant Benny. It was 'nough, see. A day for every three months. It was all I could handle. But then he started callin' my cell the fifth year, my house when he knew I was due home, an' his voice...Got to where I expected to hear from him, needed to hear from him. Got to where the sound o' him through the wires made me want more than once every three months. He called my cell late one night middle o' the fifth year, just to talk, he said...

“Hey, Chuck,” he said softly. “You sleep?” I hadn't even said hello yet.

“Naw, Benny. I ain't sleep...Where ya at?” My voice still dropped whenever I talked to him. I'd gotten used to it.

“Home...It's so damn quiet...Know what's funny? I can sleep like a baby at a truck stop or a rest area. Here, I stare at the ceiling and wait for dawn...” He chuckled to himself. “Guess that means I been a trucker too long.”

“Shit, Benny, you only been one ten years. That ain't nothin'.”

“Yeah...I called your house yesterday, left a message. You ain't home?” He said the words all casual-like, but they didn't feel casual.

“Emergency run to Memphis.” Soon as I said it I realized somethin'. I realized I missed him. We wasn't brothers. Nowhere near. But I...I wished he was here with me. Just to talk...

“You're there? Now?” I knew what he meant. I was in our place, without him, an' there wasn't a damn thing either one o' us could do 'bout it.

“Yeah, I'm here,” I replied, not able to hide the sadness.

“...That's why you can't sleep. I ain't there to keep you comp'ny.”

I didn't know what to say. I mean it was the closest he'd ever come to bein' direct. And it was true. I was used to him bein' a truck away, two trucks, three at most. But he was home and I was in Memphis. I wanted him here. With me. Close enough to touch. Even if I coulda told him that, I didn't know how. I didn't have the words or the balls...I cleared my throat.

“You know, you do that a lot, Chuck. When you 'on't know what to say 'bout somethin', when you're at a loss...You clear your throat...” Now his voice was lower, softer. I imagined his eyes, lookin' into mine...

“Uh...I...”

“Know what else you do a lot? Look away when I'm talkin' to ya. Like I'm too much...Am I too much, Chuck? For you?” Jesus fuckin' Christ! How was I s'posed to respond? “...Sometimes I think maybe I am...Too much for you, I mean...But sometimes you're too much for me, too. So I guess we're even.”

There I was, layin' in my cab. My eyes closed against the dark. Imaginin' Benny's eyes all black and soft and lookin' into me. Holdin' my breath 'cause I had no idea what to do. What exactly was Benny sayin', an' why did I want him to keep sayin' it?

“...An uncle o' mine's got a cabin up in Ohio at a place called Indian Taverns. I ain't been there in awhile but it's usually clean and it's got a fireplace and a big, warm bed. Cold as hell in winter...But if you could get away a few days, maybe a week...”

“Bed...” I heard every word. That one stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Yeah...” It hit me then, what he was askin', what he wanted...Five an' a half years...

“...Fireplace, you say?...” I was already givin' in. I had no other choice. “...I could do the end o' October. 'Bout four days if you can spare it...” I cleared my throat. He was right. I'd meant what I said, wouldn't take it back, but I was lost an' it showed.

“Believe you me, I'll spare it...”I was glad then he couldn't see the shiver run through me from them words.

I opened my eyes, still seein' his. I was confused, for damn sure. I was also scared. An' anticipatin' that day in October when I would see him in his uncle's cabin. Crisp air, firelight, him in that bed...Me an' him in that bed. What I'd do to him once I got the chance, what he'd do to me. Now that we'd given each other permission...I wanted it to be the end o' October already...

“Chuck?...” he called. I stopped day-dreamin'. Somethin' 'bout his tone. “When will too much be more 'an we can handle?” I wanted to cry then. It takes a lot to make me cry. But him askin' that question? Like we both knew it wouldn't, couldn't, last? Like he knew we was gonna knock each other out 'fore we was through, and still...? My heart stopped. I cleared my throat to get it goin' again.

“Don't know, friend...Maybe we got some time. I mean, I figure...”

“...Yeah...”

We joked 'bout Ohio's constant construction after that. It's potholes an' orange barrels an' men on the roadsides. We talked 'bout Memphis an' Susies an' his family. When he stared getting' sleepy I wished him a good night an' hung up. I didn't sleep at all that night for thinkin' 'bout October an' Benny. We kept in touch an' saw each other once accidentally in Georgia when he made an emergency run. We was shy 'round the other, like we'd just met. But it was alright.

The next month I followed his directions to the cabin, my pickup full o' a week's worth o' clothes, toiletries an' food. I brought nothin' to pass the time with. I wouldn't need it. When I got there smoke was comin' out the chimney an' he sat on the porch. After I got out we gravitated t'ward each other. He hugged me so tight I ached, but I could feel all o' him an' I was happier 'an I ever been.

We spent the afternoon settlin' into the cabin. That night when it was too dark an' cold to do anythin' else we undressed in seperate rooms, then slipped into bed. At first we just laid there. Neither o' us was sure what to do. Then he rolled over to face me, inchin' closer an' closer. An' once we was started we couldn't stop. His hands was still, warm, a lil rough. His touch was gentle. So gentle I forgot myself. Movin' faster, askin' for more, getting' lost an' not carin' that I couldn't hide it. I kissed an' touched Benny in a way I'd never kissed an' touched no one before. An' he let me.

When it was over, when a few hours had passed an' I didn't have no more energy we laid there. Sheets was all tangled up in the covers. Our legs was tangled up in each other's, our fingers. Our heads was side by side as we breathed an' tried to get back control o' ourselves.

“...Almost 6 years, Chuck...If I'da known I woudn'ta waited so fuckin' long...” He was smilin'. I could tell.

“Yeah,” I said back. “Ain't never been like that for me either...” Then, 'fore I realized I was gonna say it it came out. “I love you, Benny.” I froze.

“...That's good 'cause if you didn't I'd feel like a total bastard right 'bout now.” He laughed a second, then stopped abruptly. “...I love you, too.” When I cleared my throat to make the tears dry 'fore they could fall he kissed my temple.

We fell asleep like that, holdin' hands, his lips on my temple. An' the next three days passed quickly. Too damn quickly. We made love, cooked, slept, took walks, talked or kept quiet. I imagined that time to be like a honeymoon, me the bride getting' used to her husband an' her love an' her new take on the world. I never once tried to figure out if lovin' Benny made me gay. I knew I wasn't, knew he wasn't. I just knew I had to have him. The feelin' still scared me, but what could I do?

We saw each other often as possible after that. Phoned when we couldn't. An' got through a year like that. Then it got hard. He wanted me to move in with him in Jacksonville. I wanted things to stay like they was. I said the honeymoon would end after 24 straight hours o' each other. Truth is my time with him was like a fairytale, like magic, but once I moved into his permanent space, once we became an us, it'd all become real. People would know. I just couldn't stand that. I was a trucker. I didn't know how to be anythin' else. Especially some man's lover...

Things broke down. He started callin' less. Then not at all. We saw each other less 'til anytime we did it was accidental. He was leavin' me. All it'd take was one word, one look, but I didn't have the strength to be what he needed. So I let him go. An' felt my heart break a lil more each day.

On my fourtieth birthday, since I had nothin' else to do, I did an emergency run for Carlyle down to Memphis. It'd been ten years since I'd touched Benny, five since I'd last seen him. I had no idea where he was, if he was even still alive. But I stood outside my rig lookin' up at the stars, wishin' like hell I'd made a diff'rent choice all them years ago. 'Cause right then I was achin' for him somethin' fierce...

“Hey, friend...Long time, no see.” His voice was harder since we parted. But I'da recognized it anywhere.

Benny stepped outta the shadows, lookin' a lil worse for the wear. He didn't swagger so much anymore an' he had some grey hairs. He even had a beard now. But his eyes were still soft an' never-endin', an' I still felt that kick. Those eyes was still beautiful...

“Got a new truck. My own this time. Come see it, Chuck.” I hesitated. It was almost like he wasn't real. “Come on.” He winked like no time had passed. 

When he started walkin' I followed. He showed me the new rig he'd bought, the custom paint job, the seats he'd had extra cushion put in. An' when I cried he led me by the hand to the bed behind the seats, layin' me down like a child. He laid beside me, wrapped me up in his arms an' told me just how lonely he'd been without me. I realized then, in that instant, that he would get what he'd always wanted. As he held me I knew I was his an' that was all there was to it. I fell asleep with my face buried in his neck, breathin' in his smell. When I woke in the morn it would be to them eyes I'd fallen in love with. An' this time I would follow him anywhere.


End file.
